


cat's cradle

by lieanni (alphabetsleuth)



Category: ATEEZ (Band)
Genre: Aftercare, Begging, Crying, Daddy Kink, Dom/sub, Jealousy, M/M, Marking, Nipple Play, Possessive Behavior, Praise Kink, Smut, Spanking, Teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-17
Updated: 2021-01-17
Packaged: 2021-03-13 16:29:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28781283
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alphabetsleuth/pseuds/lieanni
Summary: Wooyoung enjoys pushing San’s buttons.
Relationships: Choi San/Jung Wooyoung
Comments: 4
Kudos: 167





	cat's cradle

**Author's Note:**

> The themes of possession mentioned in this work stray beyond the boundaries of a healthy relationship. This work is fictional (see also: use protection & practice safe sex), and I in no way condone relationships such as the one described herein.
> 
> That’s it for my PSA – if you still choose to read this, do enjoy! :)

Wooyoung finishes getting ready thirty minutes before he has to go to class, because if he doesn’t, then he’s going to be late.

It’s only going to take him ten minutes to get to the lecture hall and he’s practically already packed up and good to go, but that, of course, is discounting the fact that he hasn’t yet said goodbye to his boyfriend, an ordeal that - on a regular day - takes around fifteen minutes. On a good one, it takes around thirty, but sad as it is, Wooyoung can’t really afford that right now.

Of course, he could’ve slept in and skipped the goodbye altogether, but experience tells him that he should probably save that for a Friday - he has a presentation for an environmental science course tomorrow that he actually needs to look somewhat presentable for, and he knows how much San hates it when he covers up his marks. Honestly, Wooyoung hates it, too, would much prefer showing off the blacks and blues on his skin like stars on an inverted sky, but San’s far too close to graduation from the MBA program and from far too influential a family for them to get questioned about the matter.

As it is, though, the only two courses that Wooyoung has today are with professors who couldn’t give less of a fuck about the various states of their students’ necks and collarbones, so Wooyoung settles back down into bed without hesitation, clothed form curling around San’s blanketed one.

“Good morning.” He places a hand on San’s waist, resting it gently above the covers, and San stirs, lifting his head just enough for Wooyoung to slot a hand underneath his chin. Gently, Wooyoung tilts his head up, leans forward, and presses their lips together, and he can tell that San’s still not fully awake yet, because if he was ––

San’s hands dart out from underneath the covers and find purchase on Wooyoung’s hips, and within seconds, he’s deepening the kiss, tongue snaking between Wooyoung’s lips and forcing him to move at his rhythm. It’s an intense one, at that, the softness from before replaced by something far more ravenous, and it never fails to impress Wooyoung just how little time it takes to jump-start San’s affections.

Still, as much as he’d like to sit and revel in the warmth of his boyfriend’s body, attendance for stats is mandatory and he has to click in the minute the lecture starts. Wooyoung brings a hand to San’s chest and pushes back gently, breaking the kiss.

“San,” Wooyoung says, already embarrassingly breathy. “I have to go to class.”

San gives his statement only a moment of thought, because not two blinks later, he simply leans forward and sucks Wooyoung’s bottom lip into his mouth, showing no interest whatsoever in what Wooyoung just said.

“Hyung.” Wooyoung mumbles the word against San’s lips and delights at the slight increase in pressure of the grip San has on his hip bone. It’s very rare that he uses the honorific with his boyfriend, and he usually only applies it when he wants something. When ‘hyung’ doesn’t work – an even rarer occurrence – Wooyoung has another trick up his sleeve, but he can save that one for later.

With a small sigh, San pulls back, but he keeps his hands firm on Wooyoung’s hips. “What lecture do you have today, again? Stats?”

Though, with the tabs that the other keeps on him, it’s really not that impressive that San remembers, it still brings Wooyoung quite a bit of satisfaction that he does.

“Mhm.”

“Good,” San murmurs. He taps Wooyoung’s hip twice, and Wooyoung tilts his head into the pillow below him, baring his neck. Within the next moment, San’s mouth finds his jugular, and Wooyoung lets out a soft moan at the way San nips at his skin, already feeling the marks forming underneath his boyfriend’s lips. San’s hands trail from his waist to the small of his back to his ass, and Wooyoung absentmindedly cants back into the other’s palm, rolling his hips down into the touch.

By the time San pulls back, Wooyoung’s a bit dazed, and San gives him a cocky grin.

“Didn’t you have a class to get to?”

Wooyoung frowns at him, and San laughs, kisses his pout away, and then sends him off with a pat on the ass.

Wooyoung’s halfway out the bedroom door when San speaks again, voice so intense that Wooyoung stops right in his tracks – though, this early in the day, he knows better than to be bratty, anyways.

“Wait. This is the class with the ex, right?”

Hand poised over the doorknob, Wooyoung turns around and nods. San sits up and beckons Wooyoung over, and Wooyoung lets his hand drop to his side and proceeds back over to the bed.

His boyfriend makes a swiping motion with his hand, and Wooyoung obediently tilts his head to the side. San twists his hand in the fabric of Wooyoung’s shirt and drags him down, and then his lips are on Wooyoung’s exposed collarbone, sucking pink into the region.

“Don’t even think about covering that up,” San says, but his voice carries no weight because the both of them already know that the thought hasn’t even crossed Wooyoung’s mind.

Wooyoung nods, then leans forward and pecks San on the lips; the other doesn’t have class today, and amusingly enough, he’s already shrinking back against the pillows, fully prepared to knock back out the moment Wooyoung leaves.

“Bye, San.”

San hums. “Bye, baby. See you after class.”

Class goes well – even better when his ex’s eyes really do linger over the marks on the expanse of Wooyoung’s neck, his jaw clenching when Wooyoung adjusts his collar so that the mark on his collarbone shows, too – and right after it ends, he starts back to the apartment, well aware of how anxious San gets when he’s even a bit late. As much as Wooyoung loves the attention it brings, he recalls the three-day silent treatment San gave him the last time it happened and moves his feet even faster.

He’d moved in with San a few months after they’d started dating, a privilege that none of San’s past partners had – the longest he’d dated any of them was one-and-a-half months. He’d been essentially enamored with Wooyoung since the minute they met, though he was so subtle about it that it took Wooyoung more than two months to notice. By then, Wooyoung felt the same way about San, and they were already essentially an acting couple - Wooyoung spent more time at San’s luxury flat than at his own, shoddy dorm room, San insisting that he stay the night every time Wooyoung was there after sunset, and they were so generally touchy with each other that barely anyone even noticed when they transitioned to actually dating.

That is, other than the fact that San became more possessive. He’s generally fine with Wooyoung showing skinship with those in their close friend circle, but Seonghwa was no longer allowed to buy Wooyoung trinkets on non-celebratory occasions, and Yunho was no longer allowed to casually sling his arm around Wooyoung for more than a few moments. San had been quite nice about setting the boundaries, explaining that he’d be inheriting a business that would give him ‘more than enough money to pamper’ Wooyoung and that he just didn’t want Yunho to ‘accidentally hurt Wooyoung with the tackling one day’, but Wooyoung knows it runs deeper than that.

Honestly, he’s just as possessive as his boyfriend is, but he’s never had to say anything about it – San’s not a hypocrite; anything he says Wooyoung can’t do, he doesn’t do, so there’s never been any contention over the matter.

Well, other than when Wooyoung purposefully pushes the boundaries, but again, he saves that for the weekends. 

For now, he’s perfectly content with dropping his backpack just inside the door and heading straight for the couch, where his boyfriend is lounging in a loose, sleeveless black top and sweats. Skipping the precursors, he settles himself in San’s lap, and his boyfriend wraps an arm around his waist and uses his free hand to turn off the TV.

Then, his attention is – as Wooyoung most prefers it – fully on Wooyoung.

“How was class?” he asks, hands slipping down to rest on Wooyoung’s ass.

“It was good. Sung– ex looked at the marks you made.”

Thankfully, he catches himself before his ex’s name slips out of his mouth, but it still earns him a rather harsh slap on the ass. 

“Mn,” San acknowledges, gaze still sharp from Wooyoung’s slip-up.

“‘M sorry,” Wooyoung mumbles, and San smooths his hand over the previous impact, soothing it over the fabric of Wooyoung’s pants.

San hums, and his gaze softens to something far more familiar. “It’s okay, baby.”

“Thank you, daddy,” Wooyoung whispers, just to be extra good, and the slight smile that finds its way to San’s lips inform him that his aim has been achieved. ‘Hyung’ probably would’ve done the trick, too, but San’s arms look too good in the top he has on for Wooyoung to settle for anything less.

“Of course. Always so good for me, hm?”

“Always,” Wooyoung eagerly affirms. With that, he leans down and captures San’s mouth with his own, sliding his hands underneath his boyfriend’s jaw as he deepens the kiss. One of San’s hands snake up the back of Wooyoung’s shirt, and the sensation of skin-on-skin prompts Wooyoung to arch his back, chest pressing flush against San’s as the other’s fingertips trace up his spine.

San gives Wooyoung’s shirt a tug, and Wooyoung understands; he leans back and raises his arms above his head so that San can rid him of his top, and as soon as it’s off, he’s diving back down, chasing the heat of his boyfriend’s mouth. Halfway through a kiss that’s more tongue than lip, he lets out a small whine and pulls at the hem of San’s top, hitching it up to reveal the paned expanse of his boyfriend’s torso.

When San makes no move to rid himself of the shirt, Wooyoung pulls back a bit, resting his forehead against San’s. “Daddy, please?” 

He can almost feel San’s smile against his lips, and it’s three heartbeats later that San’s shed his top, and another seven by the time he’s removed the remainder of Wooyoung’s clothing, and this time around, Wooyoung’s too distracted by the sensation of San’s hands running over his bare skin to complain about the stark difference in their exposure.

Using San’s shoulders as leverage, Wooyoung grinds down onto the other, soft sounds pouring from his lips as the motions get more insistent. With each movement, his cock rubs up against his boyfriend’s abdomen, and though the friction is nice, it’s not nearly enough. Still, the sight of his pre-cum on San’s torso is enough to get him to tolerate the contact for a few more moments; once that’s worn off on him – Wooyoung can’t help but think that the sight would be even better if it were actual cum – he looks down at his boyfriend with a small, practiced frown.

“What is it, baby?” San asks, eyes sparkling in a way that informs Wooyoung he knows damn well what it is. 

Wooyoung quirks his lips into a pout. “You know what I want.”

“Oh, do I?” One of San’s hands trails down Wooyoung’s torso, ghosting by his crotch, and Wooyoung almost shudders at the contact; he purses his lips when the hand finds purchase on his upper thigh, San’s fingertips splayed out and resting precariously close to his cock.

“Mhm,” Wooyoung confirms, not quite trusting himself to form actual words as San’s hand smooths up and down his inner thigh.

“Why don’t you tell me, just to be sure?”

“‘M shy,” Wooyoung whispers. His face is definitely heating up from the way San’s pinching at the skin of his inner thigh and not from any type of embarrassment, but he can play it up.

San tilts his head. “You’re shy?”

He slides the hand not currently between Wooyoung’s legs up his torso, stopping at his chest. Wooyoung’s breath hitches as San takes one of his pecs into his hands and squeezes, working the flesh gently in his palm.

“Your body sure isn’t,” San murmurs, eyes flicking purposefully from Wooyoung’s eyes down to his leaking cock, lying thick against San’s abdomen.

Wooyoung’s partway through coming up with a response when San rolls his nipple between his thumb and forefinger, and then his train of thought derails, chances of recovery lost when San leans down and takes the nipple between his lips, laving over it a few times before sucking it into his mouth. He brings his other hand to the other side of Wooyoung’s chest, thumbing at his nipple until it pebbles, and Wooyoung’s rolling his hips down anew, chasing more.

“Daddy, stop teasing, please,” Wooyoung whimpers, back arching in his effort to present himself to his boyfriend. He feels San’s laugh against his chest, and his boyfriend gives his nipple one last flick with his tongue before pulling back to gaze up at him.

“Tell me what you want, baby.”

“Want you.”

“How do you want me?”

San’s hand is smoothing up his inner thigh again, which makes it quite hard to think, but Wooyoung manages. “Inside, please, daddy.”

“Mn. That wasn’t so hard, was it, baby?”

“Daddy, _please_ ,” Wooyoung whines.

San chuckles, but he still gives Wooyoung what he wants. More specifically, he lets Wooyoung take what he wants, sitting back against the couch and watching as the younger fumbles with his drawstring until he decides it’s too inconvenient and just hooks his thumbs around the waistband and yanks San’s sweats down as is.

Wooyoung’s impatient when he’s horny, so the sweats are forgotten halfway down San’s thighs; he motions to line himself up, but San stops him with a soft push to his abdomen.

“Baby, we have to get you prepped first,” San reminds, and Wooyoung purses his lips.

“‘M still loose from yesterday, and I had a plug in this morning, remember?”

It’s true; he’d highly considered wearing it to class that day, but decided against it after remembering that San didn’t like it when he left it in while in public if he wasn’t there with Wooyoung. 

“Don’t want to hurt you, baby.”

Wooyoung lets out a small huff of discontent but relents, waggling around only a bit as San retrieves the bottle of lube from the pocket of his sweats. 

“I see you came prepared.”

“Mn. Always ready to tend to my needy baby,” San says, tone nonchalant and expression entirely unaffected even as Wooyoung’s cheeks flare at the words. 

Wooyoung whines in complaint, but it’s true – he really is needy, and nothing exemplifies that better than how fast he bottoms out on San’s cock as soon as the other finishes fingering him open.

His moans are mostly caught between San’s lips, but he’s so vocal – as he always is – that a few escape, anyways, raspy and whiny _ah ah ah_ s spilling from the space between their tongues.

“Such pretty sounds, baby,” San murmurs. “You make daddy feel so good.”

Wooyoung says something that’s not quite a word, and he’s too close to the edge to try and recollect what he’d wanted to say, anyways; it’s just a desperate sound, somewhere between a whimper and a whine. It’s been a long time since Wooyoung’s been embarrassed by the fact that he’s almost always the one who comes first – he’s too sensitive to last, and San knows just which strings to pull so that Wooyoung collapses like the finishing move of cat's cradle.

“Daddy, I – mmn, _unh_ – ‘m so close, can I come?” Wooyoung pants.

It’s not like he’s going to last if San says no; thankfully, San takes mercy on him, and as soon as he’s given permission, Wooyoung comes, release spurting onto San’s torso. What he lacks in endurance he makes up for in full in recovery time, so not quite a minute since he last came, he's already getting hard again, spurred on by the way his boyfriend snaps his hips up against him, slaps resounding from the impact against his ass.

Wooyoung’s still only half-hard when San reaches between them and wraps his hand around Wooyoung’s cock, stripping it roughly, and Wooyoung cries out in overstimulation, head bucking forward against his boyfriend’s shoulder. For him, the line between pain and pleasure has always been hazy, so the intensity of San’s strokes do nothing but drive him further to the edge, and he leans forward and sucks marks along the stretch between San’s neck and shoulder in an effort to match pace; coming twice when San’s only come once is liveable, but coming three times might actually be a bit embarrassing, and he’s not nearly fucked out enough to justify it.

“Are you close?” Wooyoung asks, nuzzling into San’s neck.

“Yeah, baby.”

“Okay,” Wooyoung sniffles, brain still a bit too hazy to figure out anything better to say. In this state, he also craves affection even more than he usually does, so he presses a hand up flat against his stomach and continues, “Feels really good inside me, you – daddy feels good, too, right?”

San lets out a breathy laugh and tilts Wooyoung’s head down, giving him a kiss before responding. “Yes, baby. You’re doing so well for me, so good and perfect.”

 _Perfect_. Wooyoung beams down at his boyfriend, but the grin is quickly erased as his lips part around a moan as San punches up into his prostate, and from then on, all of his energy just goes towards lasting until San comes. He barely manages, falling apart as soon as San’s hips start to stutter, and he brainlessly whimpers his way through his orgasm, honing in on the sensation of San’s cum coating his walls.

Wooyoung’s brain is a bit airy, but he still manages to support some of his own weight; San’s arms encircle his waist, and the small circle he rubs into Wooyoung’s lower back informs Wooyoung that his previous efforts are unnecessary. He gives in and slumps down against his boyfriend, head lolling against San’s shoulder as he tries to catch his breath.

“Good, baby?”

“Yeah,” Wooyoung says, the word coming out as more of a sigh.

He lets out a soft noise of protest when San eases him off of his cock and shifts out from underneath him, but it's amended by a hum of appreciation when San hooks his arms underneath Wooyoung and hoists him into his arms. Wooyoung lets his eyes slip shut as San brings him to the bathroom, relishing in the warmth of his boyfriend’s chest under his cheek.

Luckily for Wooyoung, on Friday, he’s given a partner assignment with some person from his class who he promptly forgets the name of as soon as he leaves the café they’d met up at to work on it. He still texts the guy’s name to San, though, as an explanation for why he’ll be late getting back to the apartment, and it has exactly the effect he’d hoped it to.

“I’m home!” Wooyoung calls out as soon as he steps into the apartment, and he’s met with resounding silence. Still, San had responded saying that he’d be home by the time Wooyoung got back, so Wooyoung pieces the hints together and makes his way to the bedroom.

Sure enough, San is there, seated against the headboard of the bed. When Wooyoung peeks his head into the room, he looks up from his book, then sets it down on the nightstand and beckons Wooyoung over.

“Who’s Gikwang?” San asks, hands naturally finding Wooyoung’s waist as he settles into his lap.

The _and why haven’t I met him before_ is implicit. The only one thing San despises as much as the people they know getting too affectionate with Wooyoung is anything regarding Wooyoung and people he doesn’t know at all; of course, usually a preliminary introduction – name, class, purpose of meet-up – is enough to placate his annoyance, but this time, Wooyoung afforded him none of those.

“He’s just a guy in my stats class.”

San’s grip on Wooyoung’s waist tightens, enough to dig crescents into his skin even over the guard of his t-shirt. “That’s not what I meant, and you know it.”

“I met up with him to work on a partner assignment we got during lecture today, it’s not a big deal.”

San purses his lips. “It’s not a _big deal_?”

“I don’t think so, no.” Wooyoung fronts as if he’s resolute in his conviction, but the way San’s looking at him – eyes narrowed, gaze dark – makes him want to shudder.

“Baby,” San says, voice dangerously soft. “I thought we agreed that you’d tell me more about the people you’re meeting up with, especially if I don’t know them. Not just an, ‘I’ll be late because I’m working on something with _Gikwang_ ’.”

San spits the name out like its venom, and Wooyoung barely manages to suppress a smile.

“Ah,” Wooyoung says. “Yeah, we did.”

There’s a tense silence. After a few moments, San’s gaze gets so much that Wooyoung voluntarily readjusts and lays himself across his boyfriend’s lap. He lifts his hips up so that San can pull his pants down under his ass, and he sucks in a breath when San’s palms smooth over the flesh, as if preparing it for what’s to come.

“Count.”

And that’s the only thing San says before landing the first slap on Wooyoung’s ass, sound cracking through the room like a whip. Wooyoung bites his way through the first five numbers, tears pricking at his eyes with each blow, but after that, he’s unable to hold back his sniffling, and every word from slaps ten to fifteen come out as a sob; fifteen is nearly unintelligible.

“ _Count_ ,” San demands, and Wooyoung sniffles pathetically.

“Fif-fifteen. ‘M sorry, daddy, I – ah!”

San lands the sixteenth, and then the seventeenth, Wooyoung’s so focused on the ache in his ass that he almost forgets to count. The way San twists his fingers into his hair acts as a reminder, and San yanks harshly when Wooyoung stutters on the eighteenth, relenting only when Wooyoung manages to push the word out as one coherent whole.

It’s shameful how hard Wooyoung is from all of this, cock dribbling onto San’s thigh, and if he had enough brainpower to think about it, maybe he’d be embarrassed about the fact that he actually enjoys the slap not just because he likes pain, but because he likes how it lets him rub up against his boyfriend’s leg, his fucked out brain considering any friction at all good friction.

There’s another slap and another jumbled sentence from Wooyoung. “Nineteen. I, daddy, please, I –”

He hiccups when San lands the twentieth blow, and then San’s smoothing his hands over Wooyoung’s ass, palms cool against the now burning flesh, and the tears fall freely from Wooyoung’s lashes.

“‘M sorry, daddy, I – I’m sorry,” Wooyoung sobs, and he can’t stop apologizing even as San gently shushes him, easing him up so that he can cradle him in his arms.

“It’s okay now, baby,” San soothes, careful that Wooyoung’s not actually seated on top of him, rearranging the other’s limbs so that his ass rests against the comforting silk of the sheets below. 

“Daddy – daddy’s not mad anymore?”

“No, baby,” San affirms, pressing a soft kiss to Wooyoung’s temple. “Baby’s learned his lesson, yeah?”

“Uh-huh.” Wooyoung sniffles miserably, and then he’s crying again, the warmth of San’s forgiveness somehow even more distressing than the coldness of his anger.

“Baby, baby, it’s okay,” San coaxes, bringing up a corner of a blanket to wipe Wooyoung’s tears away.

Wooyoung’s bottom lip trembles precariously. “‘M sorry, daddy. I’m sorry ‘m bad.”

He whispers the last word, as if he doesn’t want to believe it, and San coos at him.

“You’re not bad, baby. Don’t apologize for that.”

There’s some hope in his gaze, this time, when he looks up at San. “‘M not?”

San shakes his head, a gentle smile grazing his lips. “No, you’re not. You did something wrong, but that doesn’t mean you’re bad – you’re so good, Wooyoung. Daddy’s perfect baby.”

Wooyoung purses his lips, thinking. Then, in a small, unbelieving voice, he asks, “I – I’m good?”

“Yes, baby,” San says, and Wooyoung dares to smile now, the look on San’s face too soft to be anything but genuine. “And you’re not just good – you’re the _best_.”

Wooyoung’s torn between frowning and smiling, so his expression twists as his still-hazy brain attempts both, but San understands. He leans forward and presses a barely-there kiss to Wooyoung’s cheek, and Wooyoung turns so that San can press their lips together, instead, and then melts into the sensation, body flooding with a warmth that’s almost enough for him to forget just how badly his ass aches.

 _Almost_. 

He winces when San shifts a bit underneath him, and San immediately stills, pulling back to make sure that Wooyoung’s okay.

“Yeah, ‘m fine,” Wooyoung says. “Stings jus’ a lil bit.”

It stings a lot, actually, but he doesn’t want to make San sad, but the look in San’s eyes make it clear that he’s been seen through.

“Bath now?” he asks, bringing a hand up and brushing Wooyoung’s fringe out of his eyes. 

Wooyoung blinks, contemplating. Now that he’s gotten his fix of praise, his attention is freed enough for him to re-focus on other needs. He averts his gaze and chews nervously at his bottom lip, and San lets out a soft chuckle, hand gliding up Wooyoung’s knee and pausing at his upper thigh.

“Touch me, please?” Wooyoung requests, and San places another gentle kiss to his lips before acquiescing. He motions to get up, probably to fetch some lube, but Wooyoung stops him with a noise of protest and a shake of the head, still a bit too out of it to handle any loss of contact. San pauses for only a moment before bringing his fingers to Wooyoung’s mouth, and Wooyoung parts his lips willingly, cheeks hollowing and tongue swirling eagerly around the digits.

By the time San pulls his fingers out, they’re coated in saliva, but he still spits into his hand as an extra precaution before bringing it down to Wooyoung’s crotch. He wraps his hand around the base of Wooyoung’s cock, and he works him in long, languid strokes, until Wooyoung’s nothing more than pliant putty in his boyfriend’s arms. He slots his nose against the curve of San’s neck as San thumbs just under his frenulum, eyelids fluttering shut and lips parted as the pressure ramps up.

When San adds his other hand into the mix, grasping Wooyoung’s cockhead and rubbing at it while still working at the shaft of his cock, Wooyoung falls apart with a shuddering cry, San’s name spilling from his lips. When San turns to look at him, he opens his mouth and sticks his tongue out, and he sucks languidly at San’s cum-coated fingers as he comes down from his orgasm, the tang of his own release hitting the back of his throat.

Once Wooyoung’s finished, as indicated by the fact that he’s more holding that sucking at the digits between his lips, San draws his hand back. After that, he’s excruciatingly careful with Wooyoung as he eases him into a position that’ll allow for easier carrying; he rolls Wooyoung onto his side, then spends a few seconds re-adjusting his arms underneath him before finally drawing the other up and into his embrace.

Wooyoung curls against San’s chest, eyelids drooping under the lull of San’s heartbeat.

He spaces out when San sets him down, placing a gentle hand at the small of his back that acts as an anchor as he uses his other to get about – well, Wooyoung’s not exactly sure, because he opens his eyes fully again only when he’s actually prompted into the tub, somehow having missed the period in which the water and scented lather were put in. 

San gets in after him, and Wooyoung scoots forward to make room – hands propping himself up so that his ass doesn’t have to slide against the porcelain – before shifting back and cozying up against San. 

He realizes, then, that San didn’t get to come, and he tilts his head and peers up at his boyfriend. San raises his eyebrows at him, and Wooyoung trails a hand very indicatively to the inside of San’s thigh and lets it rest there, brushing up against the skin of his crotch.

“It’s okay, baby,” San says. “Let’s just take care of you, first.”

Wooyoung takes a moment to think about it. “I wanna.” 

San purses his lips, so Wooyoung adds, with more conviction, “Please, can I?”

After a few more seconds, San nods. “After, though. Let’s clean you up, first.”

“‘M jus’ gonna get dirty again, though,” Wooyoung says, eyes wide and fully genuine.

San laughs. “You can just wash your hands afterwards. I’ll have to clean up after, yes, but I can just use the shower.”

“Only my hands? I can’t...nothing else?”

He very purposefully pushes back against San, ass rubbing up against the other’s crotch.

“Maybe after tonight, baby. But for now, it’ll sting too much.”

Wooyoung pouts; he knows that San is right, but he still wants to protest. “But – but I wanna.”

There’s a pause, and when he looks back at San, there’s a calculated expression on his face.

“Yeah?” Wooyoung asks, eager.

“Mn,” San agrees, though his voice has a curious air to it that Wooyoung can’t quite pinpoint. “Sure.”

Wooyoung lets out a satisfied hum, and he begrudgingly stays still while San lathers him down, working the soap of the bath over his tired limbs. He’s practically asleep by the time San drains the tub, and he’s almost fully asleep by the time San sets him down in bed and pulls the covers over him. Faintly, he feels San running lotion over his skin, a pleasant sensation that pulls him further into sleep, and just a few moments later, he drifts off, swaddled in the warmth of the blankets and San’s embrace. 

The next day, when he wakes up, he realizes that what he heard in San’s voice was amusement, and that San agreed to his requests knowing that he'd probably fall asleep before seeing them fulfilled. And as endearing as the realization is, Wooyoung’s not about to let the opportunity to use it as leverage slip past him, so he pounces on San, rolling him over, fully prepared to pout his way into finally getting, well, his way.

**Author's Note:**

> sry gikwang
> 
> comments and kudos greatly appreciated. here’s my [twt](https://twitter.com/alphabetsleuth)!


End file.
